Forest of Sorrows
by Wildhorses1492
Summary: To love means great pain . . . and great loss. An Elfling wandering through the forest stumbles upon something he wishes he could erase forever from memory.


He walked into the woods more often since he'd been told what had occurred upon his Adar's return. That had been a fortnight past, he was startled to realize as he roughly brushed away the tears beginning to tumble down his cheeks. He paused, turning to look upwards at the trees surrounding him— towering over him and into the night. Up there, high above everything, he could barely see the moon. It was full and pale as the light dusting of snow managing to filter through the great trees of the Greenwood to the forest floor.

He crumpled to the ground, the night breeze cooling his hot forehead and cheeks after the headlong run from the Woodland Halls that now seemed tainted with the wails of the grieving, and the faint, hollow echoes of the dying. No more did laughter or merry music drift through the corridors and passageways. To him it felt as if, since what was left of the army had returned, a veil had been cast over everything, causing all he saw to be edged with sorrow.

He thought of what the Elven commander had told him when he had tried to go to Adar and speak with him, when he saw his father being borne away by his warriors and the Healers.

He was prince of the Greenwood now, and Ada was king.

There would be many not to return from the battles, he had always realized, but that Naneth and grandfather would not return never seemed a possibility. They were skilled warriors, and had never been injured for as long as he had lived. The Elfling sniffled softly, trying to quell his tears. But it could not be helped. He thought of how he'd last seen Adar, and wondered why his father had not come to him in so long.

He was afraid; he did not want to be king if Adar departed this world as Naneth and Grandfather had! No, he could not be king, he was too young. . . As he rested his head back against the trunk of a great poplar tree, his eyes feeling heavy from exhaustion and his grief, a high keen of pain came to his ears, and he started, heart pounding at the suddenness of the anguished cry.

It was loud in his ears, and the rest of the forest seemed suddenly stilled by its echo. It came again, and he turned his head sharply in the direction of the sound. He struggled to keep his breathing calm, as Naneth had been teaching him. He slowly rose to his feet, keeping close to the trunk of the great poplar. He peeked around it and looked off into the forest, searching for movement to accompany the sounds he'd heard. He shrunk back against the rough bark as an Elf suddenly stumbled passed his hiding place, nearly close enough to touch if he'd reached out to do so.

A low moan of grief came from the ellon's form, and the night wind caught strands of his pale locks in its fingers as he walked deeper into the woods. The Elfling watched him, his tears drying as he looked on curiously, his own sorrows suppressed now that he was faced with this strange turn of events. He moved to the next tree, keeping to the shadows as Adar had taught him, watching.

The ellon stumbled through the powered snow, sometimes reaching out and clasping a low branch in his long fingers to prevent himself from falling to his knees. The Elf wore simple garments comprising of a silver tunic, dark blue surcoat, dark breeches, and black elvish boots; almost similar attire to the kind the Elfling himself wore now.

" _Laiqualas_. . ."

The Elfling stiffened as the ellon whispered the name. He pressed his fingers forcefully against the bark of the tree he stood behind, terrified – _horrified_ – and yet still filled with undying curiosity. It was his mother's name that had been uttered.

" _Laiqualas . . . Laiqualas, Meleth e-gûr nîn! Dadwen enni!"_

He felt his heart pound in his ears, racing uncontrollably, as the ellon spoke. The Elfling stared, unable to move from his place, as he watched his father raise his head and gaze up into the sky at the moon, as he himself had done not minutes past.

"Laiqualas, I loved you . . . forgive me. . . Forgive me."

The Elfling closed his eyes as he began to tremble. It had been too long since he'd heard his father's voice, but to hear it in this way— so . . . utterly . . . _broken,_ was almost unbearable. A low sob made him look at his father again, and he covered his mouth to prevent his Adar from hearing his gasp of surprised fear as the ellon fell to the ground, head bowed so low that his pale hair brushed the snow. It came to the Elfling then that he had never seen his Adar's hair without the familiar braids Naneth had always woven into it, and that was what was so different about him.

"Laiqualas, I— I do not think I can bear this! I _cannot_ be parted from you . . . your laughter, your light . . . your love. I cannot be a _king_ without you at my side." His voice was ragged and unsteady in his anguish, and the Elfling had never heard his father sound so alone before. The wind came through the trees again, and both the Elfling and his father closed their eyes as it washed over them.

"I long to be with you . . . but I shall not come. I know, though it is with great pain, that you are . . . _right_." he inhaled unsteadily, turning his head as he listened to the wind rustle the bare branches around him. "I cannot leave Legolas. I will not forsake him to this darkness. . . I loved you, Laiqualas. The forest is less bright with your passing." The Elfling noticed his father had begun to tremble, and wondered at it, until he realized he was also trembling as his tears silently slipped down his face.

"My heart shall weep until I see you again," the ellon whispered into the breeze. He reached out, grasping a low-hanging branch to move to his feet, and stumbled up.

The Elfling's eyes widened, noticing the bandages on his Adar's arms. The ellon turned back the way he had come, and when he did, Legolas saw the burns on his Adar's face, and knew truly what it meant to fear the thought of war and death. He gasped, and the sound seemed to break crudely into the silence of the forest.

Thranduil's head lifted at the sound, his hand moving to a dagger at his belt.

Father stared at son, though Thranduil could not see Legolas, and both stood motionless in the forest.

Legolas turned and fled. His heart was filled with overwhelming sorrow, and he did not know how much more he could bear.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I honestly have no idea where this vignette came from. Honest. It just, sort of . . . happened. But I've always entertained the idea of Thranduil grieving for his wife and Legolas somehow stumbling upon him, getting to hear his father at such a vulnerable moment. I have no idea when Thranduil's wife died or how old Legolas could have been. I always assumed, however, that Oropher and Thranduil's wife died in the same war, which would be. . . The Last Alliance of Men and Elves battle or something? It escapes me. . . Anyway, here are the translations of elvish (be warned, I have no idea if they're correct!)**

 **Elvish Translations:**

 _Meleth e-gûr nîn: love of my heart_

 _Dadwen enni: return to me_

 **Laiqualas means, I think, "orange leaf" or "orange leaves" (I can't remember which.) It's a name I invented when I was playing around, so I don't know if it's correct. I actually like that name, and it has nothing to do with the fact that Legolas' name translates into "green leaf". The name came about completely by accident, believe it or not!** **I recommend listening to this with some sad music playing in the background, and then reviewing to tell me what you thought! :) I'm thinking of doing a sequel vignette dealing with Legolas and Thranduil just after the War of the Ring (or whatever that battle at the end of LotR is called) but I dunno.**

 **Happy reading,**

 **WH**


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